


love languages

by sseagully



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Is Sunshine, Aged-Up Character(s), Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe Ship It, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feed Adrien Agreste, Gift Giving, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is a Sweetheart, Oblivious Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, briefly mentioned Adrigami, give these kids a break 2020, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24661948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sseagully/pseuds/sseagully
Summary: When Adrien is forced to start a crazy new diet for work, Marinette can’t bear to sit idly by and watch him suffer. She decides to leave him gifts of food with notes of encouragement, completely anonymously  - or so she thinks.Meanwhile, Adrien is overwhelmed by Marinette’s kindness and is desperate to return it in some fashion. A not-so-accidental sneak peek at her jam-packed personal planner gives him a great idea on where to start - or so he thinks.In truth, neither one is fully prepared for where their actions will lead them.-Post Season 3 identity reveal and all around fluffy story (for the most part)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 167
Kudos: 400





	1. receiving gifts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snacc_noir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snacc_noir/gifts).



> Inspired by a tumblr post by snacc_noir
> 
> -
> 
> TW: references to Bad Father Gabriel Agreste and his canonical emotional neglect/abuse, as well as a very restrictive diet that is unhealthy for any teenaged boy, period, and which fails to take into account Adrien’s activities as Chat Noir. Nothing too graphic, but this first chapter in particular does go into more detail on both topics. Be careful and take care of yourselves, loves.

“I don’t know, Tikki, what do you think?” Favorite purple pen poised over her new stationary, Marinette feels her hand start to shake. It's like once she puts the tip to paper, she’ll somehow be locked into this crazy idea, no take-backs and beyond the point of no return. The pale pink paper, edged by a sprawling wildflower print along the border, stares up at her mockingly. She flinches.

“I _think_ you might be overthinking things,” Tikki replies.

“Tikki!”

“Marinette!”

Marinette pulls a face at her kwami and tosses the pen across her desk. Slumping down in her chair, she stretches her arms up towards the raised ceiling of her bedroom with a heavy sigh.

Tikki swoops in to hover close by. “Come on, Marinette! This is a wonderful idea. You just need to get over your nerves and finish this last little piece.”

Running a hand across her tired eyes, Marinette makes a noise best compared to a dying whale. “Is it _really_ a good idea, though? I mean, what if he finds out?”

“Marinette,” Tikki says, exasperated. “If Adrien happened to find out that one of his friends cared about him enough to give him delicious homemade meals filled with love because of how worried they were over his new diet, I'm pretty sure he would be absolutely thrilled.”

“I - guess,” Marinette admits. “But I’m a little worried about him finding out it was _me_ specifically. I’m doing my best to move on from my crush, y’know, and I know he’s started something with Kagami. I don’t want to cause any trouble between the three of us.”

She bites her lip and picks the pen back up, hesitates. “Plus, what if he gets in trouble with his dad? I mean, the whole point of the diet is obviously to get him to lose weight. Even if _I_ think he’s already too skinny, if I help Adrien cheat on it, isn’t it going to be bad if he doesn’t get the results he needs?”

Tikki sighs. “Both are good points. I suppose it really comes down to what your heart wants to do.”

“But that's the problem - I don’t know!”

“Well, if you don’t know, then why not just go for it?”

Eyebrow twitching, Marinette stares at Tikki incredulously. “You say it like it’s so easy!”

Starting to get impatient but trying to hide it, Tikki shrugs. “Okay, so then don’t do it.”

“I -“ Marinette starts, then stops. The lines of her face waver for a moment, uncertain and sad, before solidifying into steel. Her next words come out softly but determined. “Tikki, did you _see_ him this week? It made my own stomach hurt just looking at him. He's just getting so thin. Like, he was already really f-“ she blushes, “-f-fit. I just really think this whole diet is unnecessary. And I also think it’s dangerous, considering how many extracurriculars he has on top of his modeling, y'know?”

_Well, that's true, even more than Marinette knows_ , Tikki thinks with a shudder. _Poor Adrien. Poor Chat Noir. Plagg must be having a fit over the current state of things._

“Plus, I know he’s trying to hide it, but he’s obviously not feeling well these days. He spent almost all of lunch period on Thursday completely zoned out staring at my food. I'm sure this kind of extreme dieting must be affecting his moods. I can’t just sit by and do nothing.” Taking a deep breath, Marinette writes a loving _Dear Adrien_ at the top of the paper. She takes care to straighten out her normally loopy handwriting, hoping that will be enough to throw him off the scent. The purple letters stare back at her, a physical confirmation of her newfound resolve.

“I’m proud of you, Marinette!” Tikki says, beaming. “Though… are you sure you want to do this anonymously?”

“Yes,” Marinette replies immediately, smiling down at her hands. “Like I said, I don’t want this to be misread by either Adrien or Kagami. Or even Alya or Nino. But more importantly, the whole point of this is to send some love and support his way. I don’t want any gratitude and I definitely don’t want him to feel like he owes me anything. I just want him to feel - loved.”

“Oh, Marinette!” Without pause, Tikki tackles Marinette’s face, nuzzling aggressively into her wielder’s cheek. “I was truly lucky to get someone like you to be my Ladybug!”

Cupping a hand around her kwami friend, Marinette giggles and nuzzles back. “Thanks, Tikki. Now, help me figure out what to write next?”

* * *

Monday morning finds Adrien groggily waking up in the backseat of the Gorilla’s car parked just outside Françoise Dupont. The quiet man had somehow gotten out of the driver’s seat and opened the back door, all without Adrien waking from his doze. Giving his shoulder a light shake, the Gorilla peers down with worried eyes under a heavy brow, asking a silent question.

“Oh - I’m fine.” Adrien musters up a smile after a moment. “Thanks for waking me up.”

The Gorilla grunts in response, moving back a few steps to let Adrien step out of the car. He does so, nearly tripping over his bookbag strap when one of his legs falter. It’s only thanks to his bodyguard’s quick reflexes and close proximity that Adrien doesn’t eat a face-full of pavement for breakfast.

(Honestly though, these days, that doesn’t even sound half bad. A little salt, maybe a little olive oil. Adrien is certain he could make it work.)

Giving himself a strong pinch on the arm, Adrien tries to pull his thoughts together. As he peers up at the steps leading into the school, he feels dread for the first time, being here. He’s just so - tired. Has been every day since he first learned of his new diet for his upcoming summer shoots. It’s the kind of tired that sinks into bone, a hollowness that follows him even into his dreams.

_It’s for Father_ , he tries to remind himself. _He’s really counting on me to help out with his new summer line. I just gotta endure for a few more weeks. No big deal. I can do this. And once I do, maybe he'll-_

_Maybe he'll what?_ a voice suspiciously Plagg-like cuts in. _Realize how much he loves his son? Stop being absent all the time? Want to be a family again?_

_Puh-lease._

“Yo, dude! You okay?”

“Morning, Nino!” Adrien calls out, automatically pasting his camera-ready smile on his face. “I’m good, man. Just got caught on my bag. Thanks, I’ll see you after fencing practice,” he says to the Gorilla with a wave as he starts jogging to the school entrance to join Nino. His best friend has a slightly furrowed brow and Adrien rushes to reassure him. “Seriously, all good! Just sleepy from staying up too late playing games last night.”

“Sorry, it’s just that you don’t look so hot these days, Adrien,” Nino admits. “Like, yeah, you definitely look tired, but it seems more than just one bad night, y’know? Are you sure that's all?”

Busted.

“Wow, you’re way too observant." Adrien rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "If I’m being honest here - I’m kind of having a tough time with the new diet that my father put me on. But I know it’s for a good cause and all, so I’m just doing my best to stick it out.”

“A good cause,” Nino repeats, his voice suspiciously neutral.

“Well, to him, anyway. I don't know, man, I wasn’t thrilled when Nathalie and the nutritionist explained the plan to me, but I guess I didn't really expect it to affect me this much either.” They duck into the locker room and take a seat on the benches; most of the other students are still outside in the courtyard, killing time before class begins, so the room is relatively empty. Good. Adrien prefers this just stay between him and Nino (and by proxy, Alya, whom Nino tells everything, and Marinette, whom Alya tells everything).

Adrien continues, "They've got me doing intermittent fasting on top of overall caloric reduction, so I'm not even eating anything till lunch most days. Then, when I get to lunch, it's the same damn thing every time: a few pieces of plain grilled chicken over a small kale and quinoa salad. No dressing, just oil. They're even monitoring how much water I drink!"

"Dude. That's insane."

The more Adrien talks, the more animated he becomes. Nino's sympathetic expression is so warm and encouraging, it helps to open up the emotional floodgates that he's always kept tightly locked up. Venting to another person face-to-face, one who doesn't judge or dismiss his concerns, who sits there just listening out of pure concern - it's so addicting. 

"Right?!" Adrien asks, so happy in that moment that he isn't the only to think so. Then, with a sigh, his anger deflates, leaving him hollowed out and exhausted again. Gone as quickly as it came. "But... what's the point of even being angry? It's not like I can do anything about it. My dad is so stubborn, he rarely backs down once he gets an idea in his head."

"So I'm guessing you've already tried talking with him then?"

_Yeah right, that would require him to show his face more than once every few weeks_ , Adrien thinks glumly. "Well, I've tried discussing with Nathalie and she _says_ she passes my concerns along to my dad, but he hasn't responded at all. Not even by email, which he's usually pretty good about. I think he's just planning on ignoring me until I give up."

The look of disgust on Nino's face would almost be comical in any other circumstance, but right now, it's almost too real for Adrien to handle. "You have to contact your dad by email? Dude, what the heck?! It's not like you guys are in a long distance relationship, you live in the same house - mansion - whatever!" Closing his eyes, Nino takes a deep breath, then claps a warm hand on Adrien's shoulder. "I'm sorry to freak, man, but I just don't understand your dad at all. Like, this is not normal strict parent behavior. This is out-of-this-world level of strict."

"It's okay, Nino, I'm pretty used to it by this point," Adrien says with a sigh and a dismissive shrug. "But thanks for having my back and letting me vent, bro."

"Of course, bro, always. Just let me know if there's anything more I can do to help. Oh, maybe I could ask my ma to pack me some extra food for lunch and we could share?"

The offer is seriously tempting, but Adrien forces himself to stay strong. He knows Nino's family is going through a bit of a rough patch right now, ever since his father got laid off from work a few months back. Just the thought of adding to their burden makes Adrien sick to both his physical and his metaphorical stomach.

"Nah, I'm good, I promise. Seriously, it's okay! It's just a few more weeks anyway," Adrien says. In order to forestall the protest he sees forming, he pulls up his phone and pretends to jump. "Geez, that time already? Sorry, Nino, I wanted to head to class early today to do some extra studying for my Chinese lesson tomorrow. Mind if I go on ahead?"

"I - yeah, okay."

Phew, argument averted. Best to cut that second offer off before it's made; Adrien isn't sure he has it in him to hold out against the promise of extra food if Nino were to bring it up again. He's not exactly at his most rational right now. Case in point, his mouth is actually watering as he draws closer to his locker, his brain for some reason imagining the savory scent of cooked eggs and some kind of herbs - like chives? - in the air. Maybe he really is starting to go mad.

Except - 

"Oh," Adrien says dumbly as he pulls open his locker door and the scent increases in intensity. But that's because inside his locker is a box.

"What is it, dude?"

A purple box. A very purple, very delicious-smelling box. The source of the food smell. It _is_ real. And in his locker.

"Adrien?"

"Nino, please come here and tell me I'm not hallucinating right now," Adrien pleads. His best friend shuffles over obligingly.

"Uh, so someone left you a gift?"

"Not a gift." Adrien shakes his head, eyes going soft and reverent. "Someone left me _food_. Oh my god, it smells amazing. Nino, this is possibly the best day _ever_."

"Whoa, whoa," Nino says, alarmed. "Are you sure you should trust this mystery box? We have no idea who it came from and I mean... you are basically a celebrity, right? Don't you need to have this tested for, like, poison or drugs or something?"

Nino makes a good point. But so does his growling stomach. Torn, Adrien shifts from foot to foot, the warmth seeping through the lunchbox into his hands acting as the worst kind of temptation. A folded piece of paper dislodges from the bottom of the container, shaken loose. Setting the food aside but still within eyesight, Adrien bends to pick it up.

_Dear Adrien_ , it starts.

_I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous here, but I thought you've looked a bit down the past few days and so I wanted to do something to cheer you up. I hope today's gift is to your taste!_

_Some quick advice: I would eat the croissant breakfast sandwich first, so the eggs don't go bad throughout the day. If you can, try and save the fruit salad and the sugar cookies for lunch so you can have a treat then too! The thermos is citron presse - if you find it too sour to drink, there are some sugar packets down at the bottom for you to adjust it._

_One last piece of advice - and it's the most important one._

_I want you to know that you are absolutely perfect just the way you are. Please, please don't change a thing._

_Sincerely,_

_A friend_

_P.S. Can you please leave the lunchbox and the thermos in the art classroom when school lets out?_

Adrien is not going to cry. Not a single tear, not one drop. He rereads the note, sniffles, then again for a third time.

Damn it, okay, no can do. Here come the waterworks. This is by far one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for Adrien, hands down, no contest. He forces his watery eyes to scan the note top to bottom but there's no hint of a name anywhere. Who would actually do such a thing? Who would notice how poorly he was feeling, somehow seeing past all the facades he put up, and come up with such a sweet plan to help him with no attempt to claim credit?

Kagami is the first to spring to mind, but as Adrien ponders that further, he realizes that none of the evidence seems to match. The whimsical stationary and the playful ink choice, the sincerely emotional language in the note, plus the fact that the gift was given in such a quiet, secretive manner - all of it reads contradictory to Kagami's straightforward and somewhat intense brand of affection.

Chloé's name pops up next, mostly from an ingrained habit borne from all of the years spent with her as his only friend. It takes less than a second for Adrien to dismiss her as well. After all, the day that Chloé actually does a good deed, completely unprompted and disinterested in credit, is the day that Adrien will eat the pigeon bowler hat that Marinette designed - feather included.

His breath falters as he then considers, just for a moment, his lady. But no. Down that rabbit hole lies madness. A madness which would need to somehow account for her figuring out his identity, in addition to a miraculous 180 flip of Ladybug's feelings for Chat Noir. So basically, impossible.

But... with Kagami and Chloé, the two likeliest contenders, out of the running, Adrien has a truly difficult time trying to imagine who could be behind this. Out of all his other school friends, he knows deep down who he _hopes_ the gift is from; but honestly, that seems almost as unlikely as his Ladybug guess. Considering that particular person can barely look him in the eyes most of the time, he isn't even certain whether they're actually friends.

Beside him, an unusually stern Nino is pushing up his glasses while he intently examines the note. Finally, after a long, long moment of scrutiny, his friend's brows unknot themselves and the look of suspicion lightens into relief.

"Oh! Okay, cool. Haha, sorry I got all paranoid there, I was worried it was gonna be from a stalker or a crazed fan," Nino says with a laugh. He slips back into his usual chill persona, totally unconcerned. "But it’s just Marinette. You're totally good, bro. Enjoy."

"Wait." Adrien freezes, heart suddenly pounding. " _Waitwaitwait_. Marinette?!"

"Uhh, yeah?"

"Wha - how can you tell?! There's no signature!"

"Huh, really?" Nino leans back to inspect the note again, then shrugs. "I guess I just assumed? But I'm, like, pretty certain it's her. She loves purple pens, been using them since primaire. Once, she punched Kim in the face for stealing one and tossing it into the Seine. And she had this really intense phase when we were ten where she tried out different styles of handwriting for weeks. This is definitely one of them. I remember 'cause I was sick a lot that year and had to copy off her notes all the time."

Every word from Nino serves to intensify the unbridled joy Adrien feels, his heart fluttering like mad. His cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He carefully folds up the note and places it in his shirt pocket, planning to keep it forever, another Marinette charm to save and treasure.

With eager hands, he pries the box open and pulls out a warm breakfast sandwich - a chives and cheddar French omelet wedged into the flakiest croissant Adrien has ever seen. He can tell it's homemade based on the sloppy cut of the croissant and the ragged tinfoil it's wrapped in, but that only makes him bounce in happiness. The last time he remembers eating anything homemade was probably when he was at Marinette's house for the video game tournament, all those months ago. The first bite of the sandwich leaves him in a tailspin of deliciousness.

_Marinette made this_ , he thinks to himself in awe, taking a second bigger bite. _Marinette cares about me! We_ are _friends, just like I hoped! She wrote me the most beautiful note - oh my god, she even called me_ perfect _. This is definitely, truly the -_

"Besh day ewah!"


	2. words of affirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notes and gifts continue and Adrien is over the moon. He begins brainstorming ways to show his gratitude. 
> 
> He also suffers from a good case of Obliviousness - but don't worry, he's going to recover soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to RayofSunshine on the Miraculous Fanworks discord for help on the “orange” pun!

In all, it barely takes Adrien more than a few minutes to finish his breakfast sandwich; he relishes each and every bite of cheesy, flaky goodness, certain in those moments that he has never had anything more delicious in his entire life — personal chef and fancy gala food be damned.

Hastily wiping his buttery fingers on the back of his jeans, Adrien moves on to the thermos of citron presse. The cold beverage adds a bright, citrusy note to his mouth, a hint of sweetness following it down as he swallows. He tries his best to hold back from drinking it all in one go, hoping to save some for his lunch later. Clearer thought starts to prevail again as he pats his full stomach in contentment.

“I’ve got to thank her,” Adrien finally says to Nino, who is hanging back and messing on his phone, studiously giving Adrien space to feast without making him feel self conscious. “Maybe get her a gift in return. What do you think she’d like? Girls like jewelry, right?”

“I dunno, dude,” Nino says thoughtfully. “I mean, Mari didn’t sign her name or anything. That seems kinda important, don’t you think?”

That leaves Adrien a bit stumped. He hadn’t really consider that at first, too excited by the gift and then its giver. Why _did_ Marinette go to all the trouble of making this an anonymous present? Didn’t she want him to know it was her idea? As he begins to roll these questions around in his mind, the tight feeling in his stomach lurches, making him lean forward. He braces a hand against his locker and closes his eyes briefly.

“Dude, Adrien, you okay?”

“I - argh, yeah. Sorry, Nino. I think I just ate way too fast,” Adrien says, wincing. He draws several deep, consistent breaths, trying to regain control of his roiling stomach. After a few minutes, it seems to settle a bit, enough for Adrien to reopen his eyes and shoot Nino a reassuring thumbs-up. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten anything off my meal plan, I probably should have taken it slower — but honestly, it was too good for me to stop.”

Nino grins. “Yeah, Mari is a pretty good cook. Almost as good as her mom. Or Mme. Césaire.”

“And what about Alya?” Adrien asks, taking one careful sip from his water bottle, then another.

“You know how she is, Adrien,” Nino says with a laugh. “Ultra focused on the Ladyblog and all her other journalistic pursuits. If my girl can cook, she hasn’t shared it with me. And trust me, I am _not_ about to ask her if she can make me a sandwich. I would be dead in like less than a second.”

“Fair. Very fair.” Adrien agrees. He rolls his neck and gives a big sigh. “But going back to Marinette… I’ll feel like a jerk if I don’t do something to acknowledge her gesture. But you raise a good point about her purposely not signing the letter or giving it to me in person. Why do you think she did it, Nino?”

“Woah, don’t look at me!” Nino says, throwing his hands up the air. “If you want an actual answer, you should probably just go straight to the master.”

The curious look on Adrien’s face only intensifies. Nino pats his jeans pocket where he usually holds his cell phone. “Alya, dude. I mean, that’s as close to the source as you’re gonna get. Do you want me to text her?”

“I - okay, yes please.”

* * *

“My girl did _what?_ ” Alya asks sharply when the boys head back out to the school entrance to consult the Mari Master. Adrien throws a half nervous, half anticipatory glance across the street to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie, a curious heat prickling at the apples of his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, dude, Mari’s actually at her desk already,” Nino reassures him. He holds up his phone, which is open to their class group chat. Tapping on the newest picture message, a bad selfie of Alix and Kim crowded behind a snoozing Marinette fills the screen. “Alix just sent this like two minutes ago. Mari must have gone there to sleep as soon as she was done sneaking into your locker.”

Adrien casually pulls his own phone out to take a closer peek at sleepy Marinette.

“So Alya -“ Nino starts.

Alya appears to still be in the processing stages, pacing along the length of the step she’s on.

“Um, Alya?”

“You’re telling me,” Alya cuts in, “that my best friend came up with such an awesome plan without even consulting me?”

Adrien and Nino share a look.

“And she came to school _early_ to carry it out?!”

“Apparently,” Nino shrugs. “At least, we think so. Dude, show her the note.”

As he holds it up, Alya snatches it from his hand, eyes darting quickly behind her glasses as she reads. Once done, she looks up, the expression on her face less bewildered and more impressed.

“Dang, M. Not bad.”

“You think it’s from Marinette, too, right?” Adrien asks, voice eager.

“The handwriting is off, but the purple pen is a dead giveaway,” Alya admits. “Plus, I kind of remember seeing stationary like this on her desk the last time I was in her room.”

Adrien tries his hardest not to fist-pump.

Nino presses on. “But you didn’t know she was planing to do any of this?”

“Well, no. She didn’t tell me anything. Not quite sure what my girl is thinking, to be honest.” Shoulders drooping, Adrien attempts to hide his disappointment.

“Aww, chin up, Sunshine,” Alya says with a friendly pat to his back. “Even if I wasn’t in on the planning stages, I can tell you this: if my girl went to the trouble to do this anonymously, then that’s how she wants it to stay. Mari doesn’t play games. If she’s set this up so she won’t get credit, then that means she doesn’t want credit. You should respect that.”

“But how can I thank her if she doesn’t know that I know?” he asks, arms crossed stubbornly.

“Dude wants to buy her something expensive,” Nino chimes in unhelpfully, ignoring Adrien’s sudden glare. “Like a piece of jewelry or the newest gaming system.”

“Oh-kay, yeah, no, don’t do that,” Alya says, crossing her forearms in a big X. “You will either make her super uncomfortable or super angry. And trust me, a truly angry Marinette is no one’s idea of a good time. Girl could even give Ladybug a run for her money,” she finished with a shudder.

Nino nods solemnly, his eyes suddenly those of a weathered man who had seen too much in his short life.

“But,” Adrien argues, a bit desperately, “I just feel so bad in not doing anything. This is literally the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I hate the idea of not letting her know how much it means.”

“Then show her! Just don’t let on that you _know_ ,” Alya says, a sly smile playing at the edge of her lips.

“Um, how do I do that?”

“Play it up in class! Talk about how amazing the gift was and how much you loved the food, etcetera, etcetera. ‘Thank you so much, mysterious gift giver, light of my life!’ Mari will be so pleased, I bet she’ll go beet red. She may even wiggle.”

Adrien feels some of the tension in his chest relax at Alya’s suggestion. He can certainly wax poetic about the surprise; he was planning to do that anyway! Sure, he’d been hoping for a more concrete suggestion of how to repay this beautiful gesture, but to Alya’s point - if Marinette truly doesn’t want attention or acknowledgment for her work, then Adrien supposes he will just have to respect those boundaries and feign ignorance.

Actually - wait, what was that part at the end?

“Wiggle?” he asks, interest peaked. “What do you mean by that?”

Alya smirks. “Oh boy, are you in for a treat.”

* * *

In class, Adrien gushes and he gushes _hard_. He tries to channel his best innocent look whenever any of his classmates tries to probe if he knows the gift giver’s identity. Barely even taking a breath, he goes on at length about the how wonderful the surprise was and how delicious the food had been. All the while, he keeps a close surreptitious eye on his seat neighbor, watching as she ducks her head down to try and hide her ferocious blush.

And to his amazement, as he mentions for the third time how ridiculously happy he is, he sees Marinette shift in her seat in a very restrained, but extremely adorable, wiggle.

* * *

The week continues on and Adrien is in heaven.

His days now consist of homemade buttery egg tarts, avocado toast, matcha croissants, honey vanilla french toast. The treats are always for breakfast, carrying the remnants of warmth and sweetness from the Dupain-Cheng kitchen or bakery. For lunch, Marinette packs him healthy but filling snacks to go with his repetitive meal plan salad: carrots and spicy hummus, trail mix with nuts and craisins, sliced fruit with yoghurt. And every single lunchbox is paired with a note.

The first note had been the longest, formatted as an actual letter; the following days’ notes are shorter but in no way less sweet, each one acting like a little snapshot into Marinette’s mind — bright flashes of her warm and caring personality in action. Adrien reads every note at least three times before carefully tucking it away, to be kept safe until he can take it home and add it to the others.

_Hang in there, Adrien! I know things can be tough, but remember first that you are strong; and second, in case that strength ever falters (which is okay!), remember that you are loved._

_Did you know that your real smile is infectious? The one when you’re genuinely happy, caught off guard by a friend’s joke or when you solve a really difficult physics question. You should do that more often._

_Today’s lunchbox has a bit more packed than usual. Could be an extra treat for yourself or it could be shared - I always find sharing food with a friend makes it taste even better!_

_Hey! Thinking about you today. I hope you have a wonderful day!_

At first, he thinks to store the notes away, perhaps in a book or in a box, to preserve them; but when he keeps pulling them out to reread them at home, he decides to save himself the trouble and leave them in various places around his bedroom instead so that they’re always visible.

It used to be that a shadow of emptiness would follow him from dawn to dusk, from the moment he woke up in his vast bedroom with an all encompassing feeling of too much _space_ around him, until the moment he laid back down in his too-big bed to sleep.

But now Adrien has Plagg, whose larger than life presence follows him everywhere. He gets to go to school nearly every day and meet up with his friends and classmates. And he now has amazing notes from Marinette spread out all over his room. Every time his eyes land on one, warmth blooms in his chest and helps to stopper the cracks in his lonely heart.

The one reminding him he is loved is taped to his computer monitor, underneath the screensaver of his mother, while the food-sharing note is taped to his coffee table where he eats whenever Nathalie shows mercy and excuses him from the empty dining room. The note about his real smile goes on the edge of his bathroom mirror, as he tries to puzzle out what smile she means and how it’s different than any of his others. And the note about having a wonderful day goes on one of his doors at eye-level, so it’s the last thing he sees as he leaves every morning. It’s very quickly become his favorite ritual, visiting each station in a circuit and rereading her words.

Today’s note is short and simple, just like the rest: _I hope you like the blood orange tart, it’s my first attempt._ Orange _you glad to be my test guinea pig?_

Adrien cradles it with the utmost reverence; in that moment, he cannot properly vocalize the delight that has filled him to the brim. He has to take a deep breath. “She punned, Nino!”

“Ah - okay?”

“Nino,” Adrien says impatiently, pushing the note in front of his friend’s face. “Look, bro! Marinette _punned_ at me!”

“Cool?” Nino says in the exact same questioning tone, not nearly as excited as Adrien would like him to be. Adrien sulks a bit but ultimately decides to stuff his face full of tart instead of berating his best friend for not paying the proper respect to the highest form of comedy out there.

Later that day, he tries showing Kagami the latest note at fencing practice, unable to help himself. He’s confident that he can trust her with Marinette’s identity as his gift-giver, but to his surprise, Kagami does not look amused or happy, instead adopting a quiet fierceness that he rarely ever sees off the fencing court.

“Marinette’s been giving you gifts with love notes?” she asks tightly. Adrien startles.

“No, no!” He rushes to clarify, panicked. “They aren’t love notes — Marinette doesn’t feel that way about me!They’re just friendly notes, mostly sweet and supportive. She’s trying to cheer me up because of this stupid diet my dad has me on. And she’s been doing it all anonymously, kind of like a big surprise.”

“Anonymously?” Kagami echoes, knuckles shifting as her grip on Marinette’s note tightens.

Adrien feels a pang then, a strong gut protest building in his throat for her to _please not crumple his treasure_ , but does his best to bite it back. “Yes, she hasn’t signed any of the notes and she’s even trying to disguise her handwriting. It’s like… she doesn’t want any credit, just wants to support me. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Amazing?” Kagami echoes again; Adrien is starting to feel a bit concerned.

“Well, yes,” he says, feeling like he’s misstepped somewhere, lost his footing in a match and about to have the floor swept out from under him. “It’s pretty much the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I feel so lucky to have Marinette in my life.”

Another tense moment passes before Kagami’s brow relaxes, her mouth firming into a rueful little smile as her shoulders slump slightly.

“Hm. I see.”

 _Um, do you? Because I don’t,_ Adrien’s brain chimes in.

“It seems you are not the one who needs to change targets after all,” she continues with a sigh, carefully smoothing out the small wrinkles in the paper and handing it back to Adrien. He immediately deposits it back into his pocket, safe and sound.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean — this all sounds very much like Marinette,” she says with a fond shake of her head. “She is truly a wonderful girl. Very special. And she cares for you quite a lot.”

“Right?” Adrien beams, thrilled at the very thought that Marinette cares enough to do all of this on his behalf.

“Yes,” Kagami says, sighing slightly. Her expression looks a bit regretful, perhaps because of her initial assumption of Marinette’s intentions. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing the true depth of her affection for you.”

“Yes, it’s great! She must really think of me as a close friend,” Adrien enthuses. “Maybe even a _best_ friend!”

Staring at him, the tension slowly seeps back into Kagami’s posture. The sense of misstepping returns, stronger this time, though Adrien isn’t any clearer as to why.

“Such foolishness,” Adrien hears her whisper under her breath, before putting on her mask and beckoning him with her saber. And despite the fact that his energy and strength levels have been steadily recovering over the last few days of eating well, she then proceeds to trounce him so viciously, his head spins.

* * *

Once home, Adrien slips into his room and starts up his classical piano playlist on high volume. Ignoring his sore muscles, he begins pacing the perimeter of his room, trying to brainstorm to the soft, fluttering notes of Debussy’s Arabesque No1.

Plagg settles quickly on his desk with a wheel of camembert, watching him silently for a few minutes. On Adrien’s fourth lap around, as the jittery Arabesque No2 starts to bounce from the speakers, he sighs, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Okay. I give up. What exactly are you doing?”

“Thinking,” Adrien mutters, sharply turning a corner.

“This doesn’t look like thinking, it looks like obsessing,” Plagg says, already sounding beleaguered, which Adrien finds categorically unfair.

“I’m not obsessing!”

“Sure you aren’t,” Plagg says. “And what exactly are you not-obsessing about?”

“I just need to figure out something I can do for Marinette!” The words burst from Adrien’s chest, like some sort of pressure valve finally being released. Days spent in class with her, seeing her be her usual wonderful self but now being a direct recipient of her kindness - it was all too much. She sits _right behind him_ , close enough for him to turn around and grab her hands, thank her from the bottom of his heart. Close enough for him to grab and hug and stare deeply into her eyes to somehow convey to her just how much this all meant to him.

But no, he isn’t allowed to do any of that. Instead, all he can do is talk up his “anonymous friend” in class, playing a weird game of pretend that makes him feel like he’s faking his gratitude, even though that part is very, very real. It’s been driving him absolutely nuts.

“There’s got to be something I can do,” Adrien says, completing his fifth circuit before flopping face-down onto his bed. “Something in secret so she doesn’t know I know.” He jolts upright. “Hm, maybe I could -“

His shoulders slump. “No, I can’t sew. Oh! But maybe, if I -“

He runs a rough hand through his hair and sighs. “No, that’s a dumb idea, too. Argh!”

“Adrien. _Relax_ ,” Plagg says. “Pigtails doesn’t need credit, first of all. That’s pretty clear already. I mean, I get why you want to return the favor, but this isn’t something you need to stress about since she’s obviously happy the way things are. Just sit back and enjoy until the right opportunity comes up for you to do something. You’ll know it when it happens.”

Adrien considers this for a moment, then nods hesitantly. Oftentimes, Plagg’s advice is best taken with a grain of salt (or taken not at all), but this time, it actually seems pretty helpful. “Maybe you’re right. I’m sure there will be a way for me to help Marinette, I just need to be a little patient.”

“Exactly.”

“Thank you, Plagg,” Adrien says sincerely. “I feel much better now.”

“You’re welcome,” Plagg says as he flies off the desk to hover closer to the bed. “And you know, I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. All things told, you’re pretty chill for a guy who got dumped today. I’m kind of impressed.”

Adrien pauses. “What? When did that happen?”

“At fencing practice.”

“What? _When_?” Adrien asks again, shocked. “And what were you doing flying out in the open during practice? You’re supposed to stay in my locker!”

“Well, _somebody_ didn’t pack enough cheese for me to make it through the day, so instead of taking my afternoon nap, I went on a little adventure,” Plagg says with a flippant swipe of his paw.

“You did what?!”

“Aw, cool your jets, Adrien. No one saw me.”

“That’s not the point! Didn’t you learn _anything_ from that time with Mme. Mendeleiev?”

“Who?”

“You’re impossible,” Adrien groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “So — when exactly did I get dumped again?”

“Like I said, during practice. When you started talking to your girlfriend about your other girlfriend, and your first girlfriend said she needed to move on.”

Squinting, Adrien gives Plagg a deeply suspicious look. “What are you even talking about? Are you just messing with me right now?”

The kwami of destruction cackles deeply. “I mean, _yes_. But the best part is that I’m not making any of this up!” He ducks the pillow Adrien tosses in his direction, still laughing, and zooms to the second floor to hide.

“Plagg, get back here and explain! _Plagg!_ ”

* * *

Sunday passes in a blur, thanks to a piano lesson in the morning and two back-to-back photoshoots in the afternoon. During a photoshoot two weeks prior, Adrien had spent the entire time casing out the craft services table with a desperate sort of longing; this time, much to his chagrin, all he can think when he glances over is: _Looks good, I guess, but Marinette’s sandwiches would probably be better_ and _Those croissants are_ clearly _not from Tom & Sabine’s._

Still, regardless of how quickly the weekend passes, Adrien finds himself beyond excited on his way to school the following morning, hopping out of the car before it comes to a full stop in his haste. When he gets to his locker, he discovers a hefty slice of quiche Lorraine for breakfast, and sliced up apples with a side container of almond butter for his lunch snack. The peel on each apple slice is split and pulled back to look reminiscent of bunny ears, which Adrien finds adorable. The note in the box reads: _Happy Monday! Here’s hoping you had a good weekend. Now hop on to class, M. Agreste!_

The urge to smile is uncontrollable, tugging at the corners of his mouth in an irresistible pull. As he digs in, he begins to plan exactly where the note should go in his room. Perhaps on his climbing wall. A warm feeling of contentment follows him throughout his day, bolstering him as much as the fullness in his stomach does. 

When the lunch hour strikes, Adrien and Nino agree to meet in the small park near the school once they’ve both gathered their food. Nino heads out to buy his lunch from a nearby cafe, while Adrien moves towards the locker room to get his usual salad and Marinette snack. It’s only once he’s halfway to the school entrance that he realizes he left his phone in the classroom. 

“Adrien, _cheese_ ,” Plagg whines.

”I’m just grabbing my phone real quick,” Adrien replies, jogging back to his desk and slipping the device into his jeans pocket. “Okay, good to - go - “

His voice trails off as his eyes drift unbidden to Marinette’s desk where a small pink notebook sits. Much too small to be a regular school notebook, maybe about half the size.

 _Her planner_ , Adrien realizes with an excited jolt. Taking a quick look around the classroom, he lunges forward to grab the booklet.

“What are you doing?” Plagg hisses from his overshirt, sounding alarmed.

“I’m not stealing it,” he reassures his kwami, patting him gently through the fabric. “Just - borrowing it for like five minutes. That’s all.”

“Oh, _that’s all_ ,” Plagg says mournfully. “Man, I’ve been a terrible influence on you.” Pausing a moment, Plagg sniffles. “I’m so proud.”

Rolling his eyes, Adrien goes down one of the middle rows and sits against the wall under the classroom window, hopefully out of sight. He makes it a point to flip straight to the most recent dates, trying to respect her privacy as much as he can while also invading it. The sheer number of entries on any given day make him pause. Adrien himself relies on Nathalie heavily to manage his time and direct him from one activity to the next. But if he were to guess what Nathalie’s planner for him might look like, he thinks it would probably be very similar to Marinette’s calendar.

“Look, Plagg,” Adrien says, pointing a finger at the planner. “Look at how crazy busy Marinette is. This must be my opportunity! There’s got to be some things on here that I can help her with!”

“Ugh. Sounds like a lot of work.”

Adrien shushes him idly as his eyes gravitate towards her plans for last Sunday, the day prior to him getting his first “anonymous” gift at school.

> **SUNDAY:**
> 
> _4-5:30am_ get up early to help Papa and Maman with Astruc party order
> 
> _5:30–7am_ nap
> 
> 7- _8am_ shower and breakfast
> 
> _8-9am_ make cookies for T!
> 
> _9-10am_ complete final editing for lit report
> 
> _10-12pm_ PHYSICS HOMEWORK!!!
> 
> _12-3pm_ design LB & CN banner for Ladyblog
> 
> _3-4pm_ sketch 1st drafts for KS concert outfits - forward to LC for approval
> 
> _4-7pm_ babysit Manon
> 
> (@6pm - Manon’s favorite show is on; can watch while eating dinner)
> 
> _7:30-9pm_ P w/ CN
> 
> _9-10pm_ free time
> 
> _10pm_ GO TO SLEEP, need to wake up early!

  
Adrien takes a moment to admire her loopy handwriting as he reads through her entries. Sure, a good number of the things on her list are school or parent driven, but there are just as many volunteer projects and activities, too, showcasing all of the time and energy Marinette chooses to spend on her friends and family.

It unexpectedly humbles him, seeing the evidence of her incredibly packed schedule and knowing that despite it all, she somehow decided to make the time to help him as well.

“You better get a move on,” Plagg warns in a bored tone. “If Pigtails or anyone else from class comes back and catches you hiding while reading her planner, you’re going to be in big trouble. Not a lot of ways you can explain this away without looking weird.”

Plagg has a point, so Adrien shakes his head to clear it of his self-indulgent musing and sets his mind instead to memorizing Marinette’s schedule for tomorrow and Wednesday.

“Just take a picture of it on your stupid phone and get on with it!”

“Isn’t that a little creepy,” Adrien shoots back, panicked. “Taking pictures of her personal property?”

Plagg stares at him, deadpan. “Are you serious, _that’s_ where you’re gonna draw that line?”

“Oh shut it, Plagg,” Adrien says, scribbling some notes on the palm of his hand. He snaps the planner shut and places it back on Marinette’s desk, nudging it close to the edge, trying to replicate the exact placement he found it in. Was it laying slightly crooked before? Maybe 45 degrees to the left? No, it was flush with the corner, wasn’t it?

Groaning, Adrien makes one final adjustment, praying that it won’t arouse any suspicion, then high-tails it out of the classroom. He has some serious plans to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I’ve been absolutely blown away by this fic’s reception, thank you all SO much for your kind kudos, comments, and support. This is beyond insane to me, you guys are the best!


	3. acts of service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien's plan to repay Marinette is a big success. It also leads to quite a few revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am beyond sorry for the month-long delay on this chapter. The last few weeks have been pretty busy both at work and in my personal life. But we're in the home stretch for this story now, so I hope you all continue to have patience with me!
> 
> As always, I am so, so grateful for all the kudos and comments you guys have given this story. Thank you very much for all the wonderful support!!
> 
> Please note -- in Paris, Wednesday schooldays are half days!

Tuesday passes quickly for Marinette, one of her busiest days yet. The morning starts off rapid-pace, dropping off Adrien’s breakfast (a cheesy breakfast muffin and some cheese and crackers as a snack) and Adrien’s note ( _You’re grate, you cheddar brie-lieve it!_ ) in his locker like usual, then dashing off to a morning meeting with the librarian, M. Moreau, to discuss a possible new book club event for the school.

Her lunchtime break is used for working on commissions for her friends. A few weeks ago, Marinette had instagrammed a picture of some small craft projects she’d done with her scrap fabrics, which were great for extra sewing practice and also for putting all of her leftover materials to good use. To her surprise, the concept had immediately blown up amongst her classmates; in the days following her post, Rose, Mylene, Ivan, Alya, Juleka, Nathaniel, even Kim, all asked if she could make them their own pencil case or make-up bag. 

Since Marinette falls a little in love with every design she tackles and every fabric pattern she works with, it does feel a bit disappointing when she has to throw the extra pieces away. To be able to use them productively and make her friends happy at the same time? Marinette is thrilled — if not a little bit overwhelmed with all of their orders.

The rest of the day, she spends in class, making sure to take extra diligent notes; Nathaniel is out this week so she wants to make sure he can copy what he needs from her once he gets back. Any time outside of class is spent running to and fro across campus: getting the class materials for various teachers, setting up the art club room for their meeting later that afternoon, and researching materials and supplies for her next project while trying to scout out possible stores with sales.

Overall, considering how busy she is, Marinette is shocked at just how well her day goes. Usually her clumsy nature and overeager mind lend themselves more to chaos than order in her life, despite her best efforts. But today is going near perfectly — suspiciously so. Almost as if a guardian angel or fairy is watching over her today, smoothing out her path ahead of time, allowing her to flit from task to task with minimal interruption or setback.

Like the art supplies already pulled out of the hall closet and neatly arranged in the club room, leaving her the easy task of simply distributing them to the various tables in the right proportions. Perhaps the club advisor had some extra time this morning to help her out?

Or her phone, which she’d forgotten in the locker room at some point, showing up on her desk in her next class. Possibly the work of some good samaritan? (Thank goodness she recently changed the lock-screen background from a picture of a certain blond model to a sunset picture taken from her balcony.)

And then that meeting with Mme. Bustier to go over the shopping list for the class party at the end of the week, only to be told that another student had volunteered that morning to handle all of the prep work. Maybe some of her classmates had seen how stressed she was recently?

“Tikki, are you doing this?” she’d hissed into her purse at one point, when Alya was busy flirting with Nino and paying her no mind.

“Doing what?” Tikki had replied curiously, her polka-dotted brow furrowed. The look on her tiny face was genuinely baffled. So no, apparently Tikki’s luck didn’t factor in at all. How weird — but also wonderful.

 _What a good day_ , Marinette thinks to herself in sleepy amazement later on that night. Snuggled up in bed and hugging her cat pillow, eyes closing and thoughts trailing off, she falls asleep with a smile on her face. _If only tomorrow could be half as good..._

* * *

As if her words had cast a spell the night before, Marinette finds Wednesday to be much of the same: busy but strangely productive. 

By the time school is dismissed for the day, her good fortune has her completely energized, blissed out on just how much she is able to accomplish with a bit of good luck. Marinette feels like she could tackle the world right now — bring it on, Hawkmoth! — which is probably why she ends up a tad overconfident, carrying all of tomorrow’s class handouts and log binders in one giant stack, rather than taking several trips like usual.

Somehow, she manages to finagle the office door open, tottering outside precariously with her cargo in tow. She decides to take it slow and steady, since she can’t fully see where she’s going.

“Hey, Marinette!”

Marinette freezes mid-step, nearly losing her balance and tipping over. She veers backwards, trying to correct her momentum, but instead coming close to having her feet slip out from underneath her. A pair of big hands catch her from behind, gently stopping her descent.

“Are you okay?”

“A-A-Adrien?” she stutters, trying with all her might to suppress her blush reflex. The heat building in the apples of her cheeks tells her she is not succeeding. Her grip on the stack of handouts tightens, probably crumpling a fair number of the ones on the bottom.

“Hey, Marinette,” Adrien repeats, pushing her back upright so she no longer has to lean against his warm palms or his firm chest. He circles around to give her a megawatt smile, much to her heart’s immediate demise. “Can I help you with those?”

“What?” Marinette asks, her brain suddenly experiencing an irreconcilable disconnect from her mouth and ears. What did Adrien just ask?

“These,” Adrien says patiently, tapping the pile of papers in her arms gently. He’s still smiling somehow, almost as if he finds her distinct inability to act like a normal person charming. “It looks like you’ve got your _hands_ full with these _hand_ outs.”

Her inner Ladybug squints. Was — was that a pun?

“O-oh, yeah, just a bittle lit,” she says. “You don’t mind taking some?”

“Not at all!” he replies happily, shuffling close to nudge their arms together as he carefully transfers, not a section, but the whole stack into his grasp. 

For a terrifying moment, Marinette doesn’t know what to do with her now empty hands, leaving them frozen in mid-air. Then, with a start, she quickly drops them down to fiddle with the strap of her purse, trying to zero in on the repetitive motion to center her racing thoughts.

 _What is going on?_ her brain screams.

 _I don’t know!_ her brain also screams.

“Th-thank you,” she says instead, trying to ignore the screaming. 

“You’re welcome!” Adrien grins at her, which should be illegal, or at the very least, against school rules. “I hope you don’t mind, it’s just that I saw you from down in the courtyard and thought you could use a hand.”

Her face warms significantly at the thought that Adrien has been paying her any attention at all, let alone enough attention to see that she was struggling from that far away. Did he really just dash all the way up the steps to help her with something as simple as a pile of class materials? 

Marinette drops her gaze to the floor, hoping with all her might that he won’t be able to see her beet-red face. It takes her a few seconds to gather the scattered pieces of her courage and say, “W-well, thank you again. The ones on the top need to go to Mme. Bustier’s room and the ones on the bottom are due for Mme. Mendeleiev’s room, along with the binders. We could start with Mme. Mendeleiev since her room is closer?”

“Sure,” he says agreeably, looking completely unbothered by the unwieldy weight in his arms. Marinette always knew Adrien was a lot taller than her, but somehow seeing him handle with ease the pile of packets that had nearly dwarfed her — it really calls attention to his larger frame.

After taking a few steps forward, it strikes Marinette that them walking side by side presents a rare opportunity to scrutinize him up close, rather than having to settle for her usual view of the back of his head. Though it’s hard to tell with his loose overshirt, Marinette would swear that he’s filled out some, back to looking fit instead of near sickly. She eyes his face as subtly as she can, which _yes,_ it does seem fuller! His lips look to smooth and shiny, no longer rough and peeling. The meat of his cheeks has returned as well. Most telling of all, though, are his eyes. The blank, exhausted look from two weeks ago is gone, replaced with a crystal clear green gaze that’s almost too brilliant to look at directly. 

Much like adjusting the lens on a camera to bring something fuzzy and ill-defined back into sharp focus, it seems her Adrien has returned to her. Despite her attempts to suppress it, she can’t help the thrilled and rather boastful fluttering in her stomach at the notion that he is happy and healthy again thanks to _her_ food. The thought satisfies something primitive inside her, a part of her that she didn’t know she had until this very moment. 

“— you been?”

“What?” Marinette asks dumbly, realizing with a jolt that _Adrien had been speaking to her just now oh my goodness why?_

“I said, how have you been?” he repeats with a chuckle.

“I’ve good been!” No, that wasn’t right. “I’ve been good!” Much better, okay. Marinette takes a breath to try and calm down. “I’ve been good lately — really good, actually.”

Perking up, Adrien cocks his head to the side slightly and asks, “Oh? Why, did something happen?”

“Nothing big, really. Just a lot of little things going my way this week. A nice spot of luck, my Maman said last night. I mean, it sounds silly when I say it out loud, but it’s just — I’ve been having some really nice days,” Marinette says shyly, her panicking brain certain in that moment that she was being too simple, too dull. That she must be boring him.

But instead of looking bored, her friend looks… entranced is really the only word that comes to mind. Eyes intent and near sparkling, Adrien says, “That’s fantastic, Marinette! If anyone deserves some good luck, it’s you.”

 _What_ — _what does he mean by that?_ she wonders idly as they arrive at the science classroom. She rushes to pull the door open for him, gesturing for him to pass through first. Despite all the space she leaves open, he stays close as he slips in around her and through the doorway, his upper arm brushing against her shoulder firmly. 

“Can I just leave these on Mme. Mendeleiev’s desk?” Adrien asks as he slides the packets onto the table. He starts leafing through them, trying to find where Bustier’s project rubric ends and the lab materials begin. Once done, he fusses with the documents until they’re arranged in a neat pile, then pulls the thick binders out of the stack and off to the side.

“Perfect. Thank you for your help,” Marinette mumbles, hand going to her tingling shoulder and rubbing it idly. She attempts to grab the now much more manageable pile of papers from the desk, but is left blinking bemusedly as Adrien snatches them back up with a grin.

“Mme. Bustier’s room next, right?” he asks.

“Oh, well, um, yes. But I-I can handle the rest, Adrien,” she says, gesturing timidly for him to pass over the remaining handouts. “You should go back and finish your lunch!”

He shakes his head slightly, lifting them up higher and to the right, teasingly out of her reach. “I don’t mind, Marinette,” he replies. “Besides, I already finished my lunch. My mysterious food-gifter put together a great little cheeseboard for my snack today, did I tell you about that earlier? It was so good, I think I finished it in like five seconds flat.”

Internally squirming in delight, Marinette adopts her best disinterested look. “That sounds nice,” she says as casually as possible. “So you, ah, you’ve been enjoying your gifts then?”

“Very much,” Adrien says immediately, tone light but serious.

Marinette hesitates. “You don’t think they’re creepy o-or too much?” 

“No, I don’t.” He laughs sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck. “Call me crazy, but I can tell that this person really cares about me. Not Adrien the model, but just... Adrien. It’s so obvious from the food they make and the notes they write that it’s all coming from a place of love. Not, y’know, them being creepy or possessive or something.”

Marinette barely dares to breathe in that moment, unsure how to feel at having her intentions understood so completely by Adrien; she feels _seen,_ even if he doesn’t know it’s really her behind the wall of anonymity. 

“Anyway, shall we head over to Mme. Bustier’s room now?”

“That’s great,” Marinette replies belatedly and gives him a small smile that Adrien returns without hesitation. Her heart flutters wildly, as if trying to escape the confines of her chest to fly over to Adrien’s, where it thinks it belongs. She sternly reminds herself that she’s trying to move on from him, not fall deeper — but realizes with crystal clear clarity in that moment that it’s a most futile effort. There is no getting over this boy. Her hands tremble.

* * *

“Today was a great success, maybe even better than yesterday,” Adrien says to Plagg later that day as soon as they are safely ensconced in Adrien’s bedroom. “It’s honestly crazy how much Marinette fits into one day. She does so much to help everybody out! All the teachers, her friends, her parents. She really is amazing!”

Plagg makes a vague noise of assent as he floats out of Adrien’s bag and over to one of his cheese cabinets. Adrien follows, opening the door for him while excitedly narrating all of his favorite parts from the day.

“— I wasn’t sure if I would be able to help her after dismissal, it didn’t seem like I’d be able to pull anything off without it being super obvious, you know? But I’m glad I kept an eye out because she definitely needed help with those class materials! Did you notice how tiny she looked with all those papers and binders, Plagg? How come I’ve never noticed how tiny she is?”

Plagg grunts around a mouthful of camembert, stuffing several wedges down his gullet at once then grabbing a wheel three times the size of his head to fly over to Adrien’s desk for round two. 

“— did you see her face when she found those craft store flyers I put on her desk this morning? She really lit up, I heard her telling Alya that she wanted to check out a few of them over the weekend! And then when I offered to handle class clean-up after the party on Friday so she wouldn’t have to? I swear she almost wiggled again!”

Adrien closes the cabinet, then walks over to his windows. He retrieves Marinette’s note from today, which reads: _It’s wonderful that you were able to enroll in school here. We are all so lucky you joined us! This place is much better off with you in it!_ He carefully tapes it to the window frame beam alongside the specific panel he opens whenever he escapes as Chat Noir. 

Grinning, he turns back to Plagg and says, “There, all set. Finished with your snack yet? Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Plagg asks drowsily. He starts to nod off right in the middle of the cheesy mess he made.

Rolling his eyes, Adrien walks over and pokes his kwami in his rounded little belly, earning a displeased moan. “I need you to transform me so I can go visit Marinette’s room.”

“What?” Plagg cries. “Why?”

“So I can look at her planner again.”

Plagg groans and flails his paws. “Are you kidding me?”

“Well, I only took notes for Tuesday and Wednesday! The last thing I have penned down is that she’s going to be helping her parents with a catering job tonight, which gives me the perfect opportunity to sneak in and take another peek.”

“Kid, you are obsessed.” 

Adrien crosses his arms over his chest, hunching over slightly. The words hit him uncomfortably, make him feel like he’s doing something creepy or wrong. Still, he perseveres. “I might never get another chance if we don’t go now! It was sheer luck that she left it in the classroom the other day, I can’t depend on that happening again.”

“Why do you have to do more of this to begin with?” Plagg asks. “The last two days weren’t enough for you?”

“No!” The word bursts out of him before he’s fully thought his answer through, an instinctual response that leaves him reeling in the wake of its strength. He coughs and tries to soften his tone. “Just — not yet. I don’t think I’ve done enough at this point.”

“Oh?” Plagg squints. “So what, another week, maybe two? What does ‘enough’ look like, exactly?”

That throws Adrien for a loop. He flounders when the answer doesn’t become immediately apparent to him. “I-I don’t know? Just… when I feel like I’ve paid her back for all the kindness she’s shown me.”

But no, that doesn’t quite ring true, does it? It’s more than that, much more.

Having spent the last two days helping Marinette with all of her errands and responsibilities and being able to see firsthand how energized and cheerful she became when her load was lightened just a bit — Adrien feels amazing. He has never felt more himself, more real or more validated, than right now, helping someone he knows cares about him in equal measure. 

Adrien can say with certainty that in the course of his lifetime, this is his first time being part of something so wholly good, and so good for him — though his friendship with Nino admittedly comes close. He understands now that _this_ is what it means to be in a truly reciprocal relationship, where the only goal is to make sure the other person is happy and cared for with no other motivations or factors involved. It’s absolutely addicting; something he never knew he was missing out on.

He realizes with a jolt that he wants to always see that brightness on Marinette’s face, wants to see her succeed and shine like he knows she’s meant to. He wants to stay by her side and always be the cause of her happiness, whether she knows it’s him or not. He wants this closeness he feels to her right now to go on forever.

Adrien just wants — he wants —

“Oh no,” he says faintly, leaning against his desk with a thunk.

“Ugh,” Plagg groans. “I knew it. This _is_ just another one of your weird human courtship rituals, after all.” He flops around the camembert crumbs dramatically, which is so gross, it leaves Adrien wincing.

“Not quite,” Adrien protests half heartedly, then sighs and gives up. “Okay, so yes, maybe I like Marinette more than I thought at first, but I’m not trying to _court_ her. That’s not what this is. She doesn’t even know I’m the one helping her, remember?” Running a rough hand through his hair, Adrien laughs breathlessly. “Plus, she’s got Luka. How could I ever compare to him?”

“Who?” Plagg asks.

“Luka — you know, my friend with the blue hair? Plays guitar?” 

Plagg stares at him blankly.

“Juleka’s older brother?”

“Who?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Adrien tries one last time. “Viperion? The guy who used the Snake Miraculous?”

“Oh,” Plagg says with a dismissive scoff. “Sass’ boy. Ehh, don’t worry about him. Snakes may be fast when they strike, but they usually take their sweet time to make a move, if they ever do. They’re patient, almost to a fault. Cats, on the other hand — we can be patient too, but rarely ever at the cost of our satisfaction.” One green slitted eye flicks down in a wink. “Embrace your inner cat, Adrien. You’ll be sure to get your prey.”

“That might be the weirdest advice you’ve ever given me,” Adrien replies incredulously after a long beat. “I mean, it’s not like Marinette is a mouse or any… thing…” The image of Multimouse appears in his mind and he suddenly has to bring a hand up to his mouth to cover his dopey grin. It’s like viewing an old memory with entirely new eyes. 

Back then, he remembers being impressed at how cleverly Marinette had used the Mouse Miraculous; she had displayed a combination of creativity and cunning that could surely rival or perhaps even surpass Ladybug’s brilliance, if the two were to ever go head to head. But now his brain is able to switch gears and focus on the other pieces: her adorable twin hair buns, her bright blue eyes framed by that cute grey and pink mask, that form-fitting super suit _with the tail?_

How had he not noticed at the time how gorgeous she was? How blind had Ladybug made him, all of these years?!

“Yikes, you’ve got it bad.” Plagg flies close, smelling overwhelming like mouldy cheese and breaking Adrien out of what feels like a life-altering reverie. “That look on your face is the most disgusting — ugh. Alright, fine, fine! Come on, loverboy, let’s get this over with.” 

Shaking his head, Adrien deliberately pulls out his cell phone and leaves it on his desk before reciting his most favorite words. Once transformed, he reaches out with a careful clawed hand to tuck his civilian phone in between his waist and his tail belt. 

Chat Noir then takes a deep breath before leaping for the open window and the beautiful open air lying beyond it. 

* * *

As Chat races along the Parisian skyline, a strong buzzing at the base of his back has him skidding to a halt, nearly causing him to tumble head over heels into the streets below. Once he regains his balance, he grabs his baton and activates the screen. 

Thankfully, it’s not an akuma alert, just a message from his partner asking to switch their patrol location to Montparnasse Tower the following evening. He replies back with a slew of smiley faces and happy kaomojis, snickering when he imagines the unimpressed expression Ladybug will make once she sees it.

A few minutes later, Adrien lands on the Dupain-Cheng rooftop balcony, squatting down close to the entrance and trying to use his superpowered hearing to confirm whether the room beneath him is empty or not. The event is supposed to start in two hours, so Marinette should be leaving right… about... _now…_ for the prep work, per her schedule. He hears light, hurried footsteps and very faint, muffled voices talking, then the distinct thump of her hatch door shutting, right on cue.

He half-crawls over to the balcony railing, hoping the half-set sun and his all black ensemble will mostly cover him from view; after another five minutes or so, he sees Marinette and her parents exiting the building with some boxes in hand, getting into a van emblazoned with the bakery’s logo on the side. Before it drives off, he catches a glimpse of Marinette, lit up by the orange and red hues of a dying afternoon. She’s wearing some sort of black dress with a flare skirt and a white apron, her shiny hair gathered in a big bun on the top of her head. 

Adrien lets out a nearly silent high-pitch whine at the cuteness overload. It takes him a solid minute to pull his thoughts back together. 

“Okay, Agreste, let’s do this,” he whispers, smacking himself gently in the face to regain his focus.

Feeling a bit guilty, though not as much as expected, Adrien pops in through the balcony hatch; he takes care to angle his descent to the side, not wanting to get his dirty boots on her nice pink bedspread. The main light of her room is off, leaving the room dim but for one soft glow emanating from the space beneath her bed. He uses the bed railing to swing off the lofted area and down onto the main level, right in front of her desk. What he sees there makes him grin.

The first thing that catches his attention is the pad of wildflower stationary that he now knows by heart. Adrien feels like he’s in freefall, heart tripping into overtime and stomach swooping with pure delight. At this point, he’d held no doubts about who his mystery gift-giver is, but there’s definitely something thrilling about confirming it with his own two eyes — and with concrete evidence, too, not just settling for sworn testimonials from Alya or Nino secondhand. 

He takes a brief moment to run a delicate clawed finger across the flowery border, imagining Marinette sitting at this very desk and putting her purple pen to paper, thinking about _him_ as she writes.His entire body thrums in happiness, breath catching in his chest and escaping in a single dreamy sigh, “Marinette…”

The next thing he zeroes in on is his intended target: her cute little planner, already opened to the page he needs. He grabs his cell phone and carefully navigates to his camera app, dragging her desk lamp closer to better illuminate the paper. Then he hesitates.

 _Should I really be doing this?_ Adrien wonders, not for the first time. 

Previously, the idea of photographing her personal property felt like too much, a step too far. But now after the last two days, that concern feels very far away, muted in a sense, overshadowed by the brilliance of his success. Adrien shakes his head firmly and takes several snapshots, enough to last him the rest of the week and into next. Pulling them up immediately, he examines the pictures under the buttery light of her lamp to confirm they’re readable.

Perfect. A complete success. He hightails it back out to her balcony, not wanting to invade her space any more than is necessary for the sake of his mission. In his excitement, he gets back to the manor in ten minutes flat. 

“Let’s see what we got here,” Adrien mutters to himself as soon as his boots touch his bedroom floor. Without even bothering to detransform, he retrieves his cell phone to scrutinize the entries for tomorrow, ready to start planning.

> **THURSDAY:**
> 
> _6:30-7:30am_ a.a. breakfast and note!
> 
> _8:15-4:30pm_ school
> 
> _9:30am_ assemble handout copies for class
> 
> _12-2pm_ lunch 
> 
> (check if any food donations are in bin - if so, run over to shelter!!)
> 
> _3:30pm_ meet w/ m. durand in art room re: portfolio
> 
> _4:30-5:30pm_ work on class party dec. for friday
> 
> _5:30-6:30pm_ dinner
> 
> _6-7:30pm_ homework 
> 
> _7:30-9pm_ P w/ CN **(switch to Montparnasse Twr - text CN!!!)**
> 
> _9pm-10pm_ finish any homework; work on mme. chamack commission

The second to last entry catches his eye for some reason, perhaps because the little addendum added next to it was clearly written at a later time in a different colored ink. His gaze continues to stray back to it, once, twice, and then one last time. “P” with “CN”? Adrien’s mind kicks into overdrive trying to figure out what that might mean.

**(switch to Montparnasse Twr - text CN!!!)**

Montparnasse Tower? Why would that ring a bell? Oh, that’s right, someone else mentioned it recently, didn’t they? It was in a text from La—

“Oh,” Adrien hears himself say very, very faintly. “No. No, that’s not… that’s just a coincidence.”

He fumbles to grab his baton from its resting place on the small of his back, all the while calling himself absolutely ridiculous for entertaining for even one moment that Marinette and Ladybug could possibly be — it really wasn’t — that would just be too much, too crazy. That would be overkill. It would honestly be _fundamentally unfair_ if the wonderful classmate he suspected he was falling in love with happened to be the same superheroine he had chased after for years. 

There’s no way. No way. 

He engages the messaging app on the baton, scrolling to the most recently received. Ladybug’s latest message pops back up and his eyes drink it in eagerly.

 **Ladybug 5:42 PM:** _Switch patrol location to Montparnasse tmrw? Usual time._

Montparnasse Tower. Their usual time… which is 7:30 PM. “P” for patrol, possibly? “CN” short for… Chat Noir? Everything matches up perfectly with Marinette’s planner. 

In that moment, a puzzle piece slots into place in Adrien’s brain with a loud click. The hazy magic of the Miraculous dissolves and leaves behind not two separate silhouettes of Marinette and Ladybug, but one whole figure — just one. 

Adrien scrambles to his bed where he grabs the first pillow he can find and shoves it in his face, just in time for him to scream like a madman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> See you all next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Con crit welcome and encouraged. I have no beta reader or second pair of eyes, so if you catch any typos, please let me know so I can fix them.
> 
> The first chapter is pretty much as angsty/dark as it goes. Be prepared for fluff ahead!
> 
> Chapters will be posted between updates of my larger multi-chaptered fic, I will follow you into the dark. Five parts anticipated.
> 
> If you'd like to participate in monthly events and connect with other MLB fans, artists, readers, and writers, please consider popping over to our [Miraculous Fanworks discord server!](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) Hope to see you there!


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